Reminiscence
by Xule
Summary: Thranduil aids a lost Elleth. R for LEMON in the last chapter. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

How many centuries had she lingered here, in the half-light, with a single solitary window hovering just out of reach? The sound of birds and beasts fluttered in from the forest without, soothing her aching soul. An age had passed since the servants of Morgoth took her, and his faithful lietenant had decided to keep her. She was one of his favourite playthings. He loved her spirit, the way she appreciated the darkness as much as the fragments of light that she received, the way she took every half-rotten piece of flesh and chunk of mouldy bread that was offered her and ate it with relish, defiantly refusing to succumb to misery. He would torture her for days on end, lashing her to racks for scourging, hanging her by a single limb over pits of hungry wargs (this he eventually stopped, once he discovered a number of his beasts reverting back to innocent wolves), his favourite was the iron maiden; at times the pain of its piercing spikes would become too much for her and she would scream and yell at him – granting him ill-won satisfaction.

No one ever came to rescue her; for she was a forgotten soul. Orphaned by the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, she was adopted by the spirits and sprites of the forests of Beleriand. The sprites taught her the ways of the earth; so that she learned to listen to the hearts of flora and fauna alike, better than any Elf before or since. The beasts and spirits were her friends, so that she sought not the companionship of others. So it was that when a band of orcs came down from the mountains they snatched a maiden whose absence would go unwritten in the annals of history.

All of this Niphredil remembered not. Centuries of thraldom had erased her mind, so that even her name escaped her. Sometimes she would dream of lush green forests perched high on a steep mountainside, ribboned with streams and pocketed with caves. She imagined the feel of grass under her bare feet, the merry chatter of birds and beasts in the trees and on the ground. Occasionally she mistook the stagnant vapours that poured through her window for a fresh, fragrant breeze, and once in a while she remembered a feeling altogether alien to her; a warm, soaring flutter of the heart that caused her to stop and smile and forget her woes. Happiness was a stranger to one such as her.

One day she awoke to a great clamour. The orcs were stampeding to and fro in the passage outside her door, shrieking and bellowing so that the walls shook and Niphredil clapped her hands over her ears. Hanging on to the wall, she pulled herself up off the cold, wet stones. She could see the tops of their heads as they passed, loping in unkempt ranks toward the stairway. Dragging her chains behind her, she staggered over to the heavy wooden door, gripping the greasy bars as she peered curiously through the narrow rectangular window. _What in the world –_

A great crash interrupted her thoughts. The room jerked violently, throwing Niphredil to the ground. Outside, the orcs' voices reached a crescendo of wild roars and screams, punctuated by the odd gurgling moan of the dying. Niphredil tried to gather her limbs once more and failed; a fall in her weakened state was more than enough to immobilise her. So she lay on the floor once again, listening to the great commotion and wondering what sort of disagreement had divided the orcs this time. It was not uncommon, you see, for battles to break out in the fortress of Dol Guldur, for orcs and goblins can live in peace for only a short time. Their nature compels them to shed blood. Niphredil had witnessed many battles happening just outside her door over food rationing and shift rotations. This one seemed particularly bad, however. _Perhaps some of them have begun eating the wargs again_.

Eventually the din died down. The last shuddering breaths of the fallen faltered and ceased, and the victors could be heard tramping to and fro, silent in their gloating. She heard voices muttering, which gave her pause. _Why are they whispering? _She wondered. _The prisoners are the only ones around to hear…_ Her heart sank. She had heard the guards grumbling over their depleting rations not two days ago. Apparently orders had come from Barad-dur to cut everyone's share, as the ever-growing orc population was becoming harder and harder to feed, and Sauron's armies needed food more than the few hundred guards that resided in Dol Guldur. _They are going to start eating prisoners_. In all of her time locked in a cage, she had only witnessed the orcs feasting on Men and Elves twice. Twice she had evaded the mouths of starving orcs, twice she had been fortunate. Niphredil pondered her chances of escaping a third time.

The door creaked open. Niphredil closed her eyes and imagined rustling leaves and sunlight, sunlight that warmed her face and dappled the grass at her feet, she imagined the smell of the flowers and the soft caresses of a summer's breeze and the lively splashing of a clear stream over a rocky bed. A hand touched her cheek. Niphredil flinched. _Don't touch me!_ She gulped, sweet thoughts dispelled by the idea of sharp teeth sinking into her living flesh and ragged nails ripping her from navel to throat before a dozen orcs began to feast on her innards.

This time, the hand pressed gently against her forehead. Soft, warm fingers caressed her flesh. It was no orc-hand. Niphredil's eyes snapped open and were shocked by a stream of bright, warm light pouring through the open threshold. She blinked several times, trying to focus on the figure bending over her. He was speaking to her, she realised. His soft, lilting voice felt wonderful to one so used to hearing the harsh growls of orcs. Niphredil fancied that she could have understood him, once, before she had forgotten herself. Instead she smiled at the pleasant sounds he was making. He was fair of face as well as voice, an Elven warrior clad in shining armour, with a river of silver hair flowing down his back. As Niphredil looked up into his shining turquoise eyes, she felt that warm feeling returning to her heart.

He brushed her hair out of her face with gentle words and slid his arms under her, lifting her up against his chest. Her manacles fell away as he stood, though she could not recall anyone opening them. She laid her head against him and closed her eyes. _This is a good dream_. She thought. _This is the best dream I have ever had_.

She came to as the soldier laid her down on the grass. There were more voices around her now, and from somewhere a way off came an immense cracking sound, as though someone was tearing the stone apart at the seams. Niphredil sat up shakily and looked about. There were Elves all around her. Most were hurrying to and fro, arms clattering and garments rustling as they went, but a small group had gathered around her. She spotted the warrior that had carried her out in the half-dozen faces gazing down at her. Someone was leaning over her again. He was fairer and grimmer than his soldier, with the mark of millennia in his shining blue-grey eyes. His hair was long and golden, held back only by the spiked silver crown he wore atop his head. The crown was interwoven with fresh flowers of many hues, for spring had come; its glittering sunlight shocked Niphredil's weary eyes and painted the forest with vibrant colours such as she had only ever seen in her dreams. The Elvenking's deep, tender voice called her attention, and she frowned at him as she struggled to understand. She knew the words, but meaning eluded her. She smiled coyly and lowered her head.

"_Thranduil._" He said, placing a hand on his breast.

Niphredil moved her mouth uncertainly. When had she last spoken? How had she formed words before? Embarassed, she shut her struggling jaw and gazed helplessly up at him. The King nodded, and though she knew he understood, shame clawed at her.

Thranduil put his hand to his shoulder and unfastened his cloak. This he pulled off and draped carefully around her. Niphredil had spent so long naked in the dark that she had forgotten about clothing and modesty, but she quickly remembered her humility at this gesture, and clutched the grey cloth tightly to her. Thranduil offered words of comfort and reached out to her. She took his hand and allowed him to help her up. Balancing uncertainly on emaciated legs, she wrapped the cloak properly around herself as he held her up. With his help, she staggered limply over to his steed; an _ireas_, Giant Deer in the Common Tongue. The magnificent animal knelt down patiently as the King helped her up onto his back. He held her as the deer stood, lifting her high above everyone else. Niphredil clung to its neck, relishing the feel of its soft brown hair against her skin.

A noise like thunder tore through the sky. Niphredil started and looked back toward the fortress just in time to see it crack straight down the middle and collapse in on itself in a cloud of black dust. In the midst of the great cloud there glowed a tall figure clad in white and gold. She shone like a radiant star through the dark vapour, her golden curls tossed about by the gale of hot air that burst forth from the crumbling tower. Soon enough there was next to nothing left of Sauron's former hiding place, and the Lady Galadriel lowered her arms, standing proudly over the wreckage. Lord Celeborn stepped out from among his men and stood next to her, laying his hands on her shoulders. A shout nearby pulled Niphredil's eyes away from the most beautiful couple in Middle Earth.

A dark-haired Elf was pushing his way toward two thralls being escorted away from the rubble. He had a high brow and grey eyes. His face, fair though it was, was slightly darker in complexion than an Elf's should normally be and lined very faintly as though with age, belying his half-blooded nature. Elrond Halfelven was greeted with joy by his twin uncles, whom history had long proclaimed lost. As Eluréd and Elurín embraced their sister-son in turn, Niphredil looked about. All around her she witnessed similar meetings, as Sauron's former pets were welcomed back to life by people they had once loved, and though she could not recall her former life, an inkling that no-one would come for her darkened her heart.

Someone touched her arm. It was one of the twins. He was saying something to her. Niphredil sighed and shrugged. Thranduil strode up beside him and listened intently as Eluréd told him something about her. When at last he gestured to her and uttered the name "Niphredil", she gasped. Thranduil looked up at her. "Niphredil?" She nodded, grinning inanely. It was good to know her name, if nothing else.

After a lengthily discussion about her and a number of other things, Thranduil bid the hosts from Lothlórien and Imladris farewell and mounted his _ireas. _His people assembled in single-file behind him, and together the host of Greenwood set off home. Niphredil sat quietly in front of the King, drinking in the sights and sounds of the forest. It felt familiar, somehow. She guessed that she must have lived in a forest such as this before, though she failed to recall even the faintest of details about it. As the day drew on, however, she found her attention waning. A heavy weariness descended upon her and she found herself slipping into her first peaceful sleep in Erú knows how long, with her head resting against her mount's broad neck.


	2. Chapter 2

She awoke to find herself in a soft bed. The cloak was gone, and someone had slipped her into a long white nightgown. Her hair had been brushed and she had been bathed from head to toe. The room she was in was plainly furnished and gently lit by a single waning candle. The walls were hewn from milky white stone and draped here and there with paintings and tapestries. In the corners stood sturdy columns adorned with carven leaves and vines riddled with all sorts of climbing stone creatures. There were no openings in the walls, save for a single arch sealed by a heavy wooden door latched securely to the wall by huge silver hinges. A small armoire faced the foot of the bed, with a chest of drawers and a full-length mirror upon either side. A vase of colourful flowers sat atop the drawers. Against the wall to her left was a small round table with a single carven leg, upon which some kind soul had placed a tray with a single plate piled high with cold foods and a large tankard of _miruvor_. Niphredil clambered shakily out from under the covers and snatched the tray up. Sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, she stuffed handful after handful of cold beef and vegetables into her mouth, hardly chewing for hunger. She emptied both plate and mug in mere seconds, humming in euphoric satisfaction as she crawled sluggishly back under the warm sheets.

A hand lightly brushed her hair out of her face and drew the sheet up over her exposed shoulder. Niphredil opened her eyes a crack, wondering who had drawn her out of her dose. The King sat by her bedside, waiting patiently for her to come to. Niphredil blinked slowly until her eyes opened fully. She did not move or try to speak, but watched him intently. Thranduil was trying to speak to her again. She struggled to make sense of his words, willing her memories to fall into place so that she would recall the language that she had lost. Thranduil laid a strong yet gentle hand on her shoulder and stared forlornly into her eyes as he repeated himself for the umpteenth time. Niphredil shook her head as the words fell hopelessly from her ears.

_I do not understand._ She thought aloud.

He sat bolt upright and frowned down at her. Had he heard her? It took a certain amount of training to communicate telepathically. Though she had had no doubt that Thranduil could sense her emotions, the implication that he could hear her thoughts lifted her spirits.

_Can you hear me? _

He blinked erratically and tilted his head.

_Tell me your name. _

Thranduil pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose as one with a headache, but did not respond to her. Niphredil despaired inwardly. He could not pick up what she was saying. Her messages were only reaching him in the form of psychic static, which only resulted in a migraine on his part. She watched as he rubbed his temples for a moment in an effort to disperse the pain.

"_Naeg_ (pain)." She uttered of a sudden; the word fell from her lips of its own accord.

He was visibly startled, but nodded nonetheless. Niphredil raised a hand and gestured to him. Thranduil bent smoothly over the bed. Niphredil placed a hand at his temple, with her thumb pressing firmly against the centre of his forehead, and drew the pain out. It escaped as a short jolt of electricity, which she promptly shook off. Thranduil stared at her in visible awe. She smiled for the first time in centuries and was pleased to see his shapely mouth curve into a smirk of its own. Thranduil spoke once more, gesturing to the garments laid at the end of the bed. Niphredil understood that he wanted her to get dressed. She gave a curt nod and sat up. Thranduil bowed out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Niphredil slid out of bed and pulled the nightgown over her head. She dressed slowly, unsure of how exactly to arrange the delicate dress, though she was sure she had worn something similar before. When she was finally clothed she rummaged through the chest of drawers until she discovered a brush and pins. It took her the longest time to smooth out her hair, not only because it had gone unrestrained for so many years, but also due to the fact that she had not seen her reflection in an age. She found herself inspecting her face and frame in great detail. She had forgotten what a deep red her hair was, how her lavender eyes shone in her pale oval face. She smiled once again as she pinned the front of her hair back in two loose plaits, marvelling at the fact that she was free at all.

She stepped quietly around the door and out into the well-lit passage. The King was gone; two guards stood by instead. They bowed when she came forth and gestured for her to follow them. They led Niphredil through the labyrinthine tunnels and up two flights of stairs to a long, broad passage flanked by enormous carven columns. This they followed for what felt like an eternity. Niphredil was beginning to wonder if it would ever end when, annoyingly, it did. It opened into an immense rotunda, riveted all around with narrow buttresses that supported a wide dome with a gaping oculus. Sunlight poured in through the round opening, casting the two figures at the centre of the hall in glaring light.

The guards halted at the doorway. Niphredil tiptoed nervously forward. One of the figures was undoubtedly Thranduil; he was standing in front of his splendid throne, in heated conversation with a an elderly-looking man clad in white robes and a tall blue hat, leaning on a long staff.

"Mithrandir." Niphredil said aloud. The two turned to her and the wizard smiled. He said something that she did not understand and gave her a look of unabashed pity when he recognised the incomprehension on her face. Niphredil stood in front of him, inspecting him with unhindered admiration. _So this is Mithrandir, the grey wizard that became white._ She mused. _This is the ambassador from Valinor._

His blue eyes sparkled. _I see my reputation precedes me even among the prisoners of the Dark Lord._

Niphredil smiled, not in the least bit surprised that he had understood her. _I had hoped to meet you for a long time._

He grinned, the warmth in his eyes granting greater strength to her newly-fortified spirit. _I am glad to meet you too, child. I should be glad to help you as well, if I may._

_How can you help me?_ Niphredil pondered.

_By healing your mind._

_You can return my memories? _

_I cannot return what you have not lost. _Gandalf told her. _I can only mend the pathways to your broken memories. Speech will come quickly and the rest will follow in its own time. You will remember everything in a matter of weeks, if your mind is strong._

He took her hand and wrapped it around his staff, covering it with his own, then with his other hand he lightly touched her forehead with his fingertips. A wave of energy flashed through her from the staff and was held in her head by his buzzing fingertips. A white-hot pain gathered between her temples, searing her eyes and ringing in her ears. It was over almost as soon as it happened. Niphredil felt Gandalf's hands on her shoulders, steadying her as she blinked an entire constellation out of her vision.

"Can you speak?" He asked.

"I- I don't…" Niphredil shook herself. "Why yes, I believe I can!"

"Well there's a relief, nothing more than a bit of memory loss!" Gandalf chuckled.

" 'Nothing more' ?" Niphredil parroted.

"King Thranduil was worried Sauron had placed a curse of some sort on you." Gandalf explained.

"I see." She said.

"Of course you would have regained your speech and memory eventually, in your own time." He went on. " But Thranduil was far too concerned to leave it alone." He winked.

"I thank you, Mithrandir." Thranduil broke in. "Now perhaps we can help Lady Niphredil to return to her kin as quickly as possible."

"There is no need to thank me." Gandalf replied, a flicker of mischief dancing in his eye. "I merely helped the process along."

"All the same, thank you." Niphredil said, bowing.

"It is nothing really, My Lady." He responded, bowing in kind.

Thranduil appeared at her side. Laying a hand firmly against the small of her small back, he turned her toward the door. "Please go with my guards, My Lady. Mithrandir and I have other matters to discuss in private. My subjects will see to your needs. "

Niphredil bowed to the King and returned to the guards standing patiently on either side of the doorway. They led her once more through the twisting halls of this modern-day Menegroth, but in a new direction. They travelled not so far as before, and did not twist and turn so much. So it was that they came upon a particularly splendid door of heavy dark wood, adorned with a twisting design wrought from pure gold, set in the centre with a single many-rayed star. She eyed her escort questioningly.

"The King wishes for you to share your evening meal with him." One explained. "At present his occupied with Mithrandir. Please wait within."

She nodded, not at all aware of why Thranduil wished to eat dinner with her. She pulled the door's tremendous latch and it opened noiselessly inward. Thanking the guards, she stepped inside. The Elvenking's chamber was easily three times the size of her Spartan cell. Like her room, the walls were hung with tapestries and paintings, though his were far more beautiful than what she had seen before. A handful of polished weapons and pieces of armour also clung to the walls, reflecting the white stone beautifully. The large four-poster bed was dressed in rich fabrics in varying shades of green and silver, and enclosed by a canopy of heavy curtains. Silk screens partially separated the king's sleeping quarters from a large, rounded alcove. Slipping between the partitions, Niphredil found herself looking at a long table originally built for dining, but littered with thick leather tomes and rolls of vellum. There were four chests set against the curved wall, each overflowing with papers, books and random paraphernalia. Embossed gold sconces and ornate candelabras cast a warm glow throughout the two spaces.

Niphredil was flipping through a book filled from cover to cover with detailed maps when Thranduil finally sauntered over to his seat at the opposite end of the broad dining table. She shut the with a dull snap and watched as he unbuttoned his green silk jacket and draped it over the back of his chair, revealing a pristine white tunic trimmed with silver thread. Pressing his lips to steepled fingers, he peered back at her silently.

"I had hoped Mithrandir would be able to return your memory immediately." He said at length.

"Yes, I hoped so, too." She agreed.

"Until you remember, we cannot possibly go about finding your kin." He waved his hand through the air.

"If I have any kin to find." She laughed. "The world has changed a lot in the time I was imprisoned."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "You remember something?"

"Not as such." She replied. "It is no more than an inkling."

"Perhaps an inkling is the forerunner to remembrance." He pondered.

"Perhaps." She agreed.

There was a knock at the door. "Enter." Thranduil called. Two Elves entered; one bearing a tray with food and the other with drink. Niphredil's eyes widened in excitement as a plate of roast venison and vegetables was set in front of her. As the other young Elf poured her a cup of _miruvor_, she looked across the table. Thranduil was watching her quietly. To her surprise, she felt a slight rush of colour rise to her cheeks, which she attempted to hide behind her tilted cup.

"You remember nothing from your life before you were captured?" The Elvenking pressed as the servants left.

Niphredil held her hand politely over her mouth as she chewed a monstrous chunk of peppered meat. Swallowing with some effort, she shook her head. "No." She answered. "Well…" She lowered her cutlery thoughtfully.

"Yes?"

"Occasionally I would dream of a place. A woodland." She explained. "What with all the visions Sauron would summon in my head for his amusement, it was often difficult to separate my dreams from reality, but that place… It was different from other visions. It felt so familiar."

"Did you ever recall a name for this place?" He asked.

"No." She said. "Never."

They ate in silence for a while. It was Thranduil's rolling, low chuckle that broke the stillness of the air. Niphredil looked up and cocked her head, smiling in spite of herself at the sight of him sniggering over his plate. "What?" She queried.

"You were hungry." He observed.

Niphredil looked down at her plate. Only a single potato was left; she had devoured everything else, as well as two sizeable rolls of bread and half a sprig of fresh celery meant for the two of them to share. Thranduil had barely finished his vegetables. She blushed properly this time. "I suppose I was."

"Please, do not be discouraged." He urged, his expression apologetic. "I meant nothing by it. I do not doubt that you have gone many centuries with barely enough to survive on. Eat as much as you want."

"I have had my share." She responded, swallowing the last of her potato with a meek grin.

"Have the rest of the celery."

Niphredil considered it longingly. "No, that half is yours."

"I beg you." He insisted. "It is a pleasure to watch you eat."

She pulled the dish over. "You are sure?"

His handsome face broke into a boyish grin. "It's just celery." He laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

Niphredil soon found herself very much at home in the Elvenking's halls. Thranduil extended dinner invitations every evening, and she never missed a single sitting with him. Niphredil supposed that the king felt responsible for her, having pulled her from the wreckage of Dol Guldur. It would not be very regal of him to abandon her as soon as she was free, given her condition. He never said as much, but Niphredil knew he pitied her. He spoiled her with new clothes, jewellery and items to decorate her room – he even gave her a horse; a fine black mare named Daeiell. The one thing he delayed was bringing her outside. When Niphredil finally plucked up the courage to ask his permission to leave the caves he said:

"My, I had completely forgotten. How long did you spend out of sight of sun and stars? Forgive me, My Lady." He stood up and rounded the table and offered her his hand. "Sometimes I find myself so comfortable in these halls that I forget about the world beyond them. Let us go now, while the stars are bright. I - I apologise for my negligence."

She took his hand as she rose. "Nay, Sire. There is naught to apologise for."

His guards fell into step behind them as he guided her upwards through the tunnels, passing through his empty throne room and through a gated archway facing his royal seat. This tunnel sloped gradually upward, until the glow from the torches on either side was stifled by silvery moonlight pouring through a mithrill portcullis, which the gate men raised as they approached.

Niphredil paused as the fresh night air bathed her face. She inhaled deeply and looked outward, examining the eaves of the sleeping forest and the bubbling stream that hugged the elf-made hill. Legions of stars sparkled overhead; the moon hung as a silver sickle in the eastern sky. Thranduil squeezed her hand. "This way."

To the right a narrow stair had been sent in side of the high dome. Gesturing for his men to stay behind, Thranduil led her up the roughly-hewn steps. They wound their way up to the crown of the hill in a large spiral, until they passed through an archway of living branches, formed by the limbs of the tall beeches set in a circle at the top. Here there was a vast open space littered with bushes and flowers, with a single stone bench facing them. The Elvenking took her hand once more and led her around the edge of the trees. For a moment Niphredil wondered why they did not simply walk across the garden, until she saw the gaping pit at its heart. _That must be the oculus_. She realised. _To think all of this was up here and I could not even see it from the throne room!_

She sat on the bench, arranging her skirts delicately over her legs as Thranduil lowered himself down beside her. The air felt heavy between them; she tried to ignore it and waited for him to speak.

"I once lived in a place similar to this." He stated.

Niphredil blinked at him. "Menegroth."

He cast her a sideways glance. "Yes… how did you know that?"

"I know of Doraith." She answered.

"But how?"

"I am not sure." She said. "I have read nothing of it in your library."

"Did you also live there?" He guessed. "Maybe that was the place you dreamt of."

She shook her head. "I do not think so. The place in my dreams was open – wild. It was not an enclosed kingdom."

"Doraith was not as enclosed as you might think." He told her. "While I lived there people were welcome to come and go as they pleased."

"That was before the influence of Morgoth." Niphredil had no idea where all of this lore was coming from.

"Yes…" Thranduil turned to her now, blinking in puzzlement. "Do you know what my halls are called?"

"No." She responded. "I thought they were simply the Elvenking's Halls."

"As do most." He nodded. "_Ringathrond_ is their name; the Caves of Remembrance. I built them as a tribute to Menegroth of old, but I was never able to recapture the wonder of Thingol and Melian's halls."

"They are very beautiful." Niphredil offered.

"Thank you." He said with a smile. "But it is naught compared to what was lost when the world was rent asunder."

"Why are you telling me this?" Niphredil asked at last.

"Because when you left Mithrandir told me something: He said you might never regain all of your memories." Thranduil sighed heavily. "He did not want to tell you, lest you should despair and make no effort to remember, but I think you are stronger than that."

"Thank you, but –"

"I am saying this because," Thranduil went on. "If your mind never reverts back to the Menegroth it was, I want to help you to create better memories in this age, uncouth as it is."

Niphredil bit her lip. She had never considered the possibility of starting from scratch or abandoning her old recollections. To her it looked like defeat, but Thranduil's words swayed her. _I could have a good life here, either way_. She realised. _With someone like him willing to help me, starting afresh would not be so impossible. _"I would appreciate that." She finally choaked.

He took her to the little garden every evening after dinner after that. Sometimes, when the weather was fine, they would mount their steeds and ride out into the forest. Greenwood the Great had been virtually cleared of spiders since the fall of Sauron, so the Elves ventured out after dark more frequently and in fewer numbers. Niphredil even joined the inhabitants of Ringathrond in their feasts, which the king held almost weekly. As she spent time with the Greenwood Elves, the idea of remembering her past slipped further and further from her mind. _What are memories compared to this_? She asked herself. _Nothing could possibly overshadow what I have here. _

One night, not long after her arrival, Thranduil summoned her to his throne room for a second time. He stood as she approached and offered her his arm, which she took, all to aware of the eyes of his court upon them. For it was mid-afternoon and the chamber was bustling. They walked up the sloping corridor and climbed the steps to their little garden in silence.

"Please be seated." He said at last, gesturing to the stone bench. She sat and looked up at him. He seemed anxious. He sat down next to her and stood up almost immediately. He took a handful of steps away from her and turned in order to stride back. He stopped in front of her and cleared his throat.

"My presence has been requested at the wedding of King Elessar and the Lady Arwen." He uttered in one quick breath. "That is, Lord Elrond's daughter and the newly-crowned king of Gondor."

"I have heard of them." Niphredil said.

"I shall bring an escort with me, and we shall meet my son, Legolas, for he accompanied Isildur's heir on his great journey. It is only proper for me to attend." He continued.

"Hmm." He was babbling. Niphredil wished he would get to the point.

"Of course there will be guards with me. As well as minstrels, cooks, smiths, various esteemed members of the court and their spouses; anyone that might wish to come, really." He flexed his hands nervously. "I thought I should ask – would you like to come?"

Niphredil gasped. "To Gondor? To the king's wedding?"

"Yes. If you feel up to it, of course." He replied.

"You want me to go with you?"

"Yes. Well –" He faltered. "The choice is yours. You may join us or not."

She giggled. "I'd love to."

He finally sat down. "I am glad."


	4. Chapter 4

They set out the very next morning. Thranduil, astride his splendid _ireas_, looked especially regal in his finest clothes and jewels, with his polished crown decked in freshly-picked blossoms. Niphredil was pleased with her own appearance, as well. The king had had a new dress made for her; a flowing white and silver gown with a red sash. He had given her a beautiful torc before they left as well, made of silver twisted into an elegant design and set with a rich red ruby. On her brow he set a simple silver circlet. Even her horse had been prepared for the occasion; she had been given new tack made from supple brown leather, trimmed in red and silver. In her new finery, Niphredil looked like a well-established member of the court. She even had her own tent.

They made good time, marching tirelessly from dawn until dusk. They forded the Anduin north of Lothlórien and met some of Celeborn and Galadriel's people as they passed the woodland realm. They passed unhindered through Rohan and rounded the Ered Nimrais swiftly. So it was that they arrived in Gondor on the eve of the great wedding, and were greeted at the gates of the kingdom by Thranduil's son, Legolas, the son of the last steward, Mithrandir and the Dwarf, Gimli.

Thranduil dismounted with a leap and embraced his son. They shared whispered greetings as the rest of the court slipped from their mounts. Niphredil stood by her horse until the Elvenking called her forward.

"Legolas, this is Niphredil." He said. Niphredil bowed and offered the prince the traditional Elvish greeting ('May a star shine upon the hour of our meeting'). "She is the one I told you about, who survived the pits of Dol Guldur for centuries uncounted."

Legolas bowed. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Niphredil. My father has told you much about you."

"Oh?" Niphredil looked curiously up at Thranduil.

"Yes, well…" Thranduil floundered. "Ah…there was much to tell. It is admirable that you survived for so long."

"It was indeed, Lady Niphredil." Mithrandir chimed in. "And let me say that I am most please to make your acquaintance again."

"And I yours, Mithrandir." She bowed deeply. "And you must be Faramir, son of Denethor."

"Yes, I am, My Lady." Faramir replied with a bow. "Pleased to meet you."

"And I am Gimli." The Dwarf said. "Son of Glóin."

"A pleasure." Niphredil responded.

They were led up through the city to the white citadel of the king. Here they met many others; the four Hobbits that finally made a name for their kindred in the annals of the world, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and his host, and finally Lord Elrond and his people. Elured and Elurin were most pleased to see Niphredil again. They embraced her like a long-lost sister when they saw her.

"And yet you have found none of your kin?" Elurin asked with an air of sympathy.

"Nay." She replied. "I think they are no longer of this world."

"You still do not recall them?"

She shook her head. "Nor anything from that time. Save the glimpses I see in my sleep."

"It is a pity." Elured commented.

"No." She said. "My life here is more than enough for me. I do not mourn the past."

They smiled in unison. "Then you are lucky." Elurin replied.

Once they had been shown to their rooms, Thranduil and Niphredil set off around the city, flanked by only two guards. They inspected Minas Tirith from top to bottom, whittling away the entire day. "I expect the king shall rename it back to Minas Arnor." Thranduil mused. "Once things have been set aright and the rubble cleared."

"There is nothing left to watch." Niphredil agreed.

"There is still the threat of the Southrons." Thranduil said. "But I expect Elessar shall mend things with them soon enough, if they will allow it."

"You think he will be a good king?"

"He has a good heart, from what my son has told me." He replied. "I expect he will try to do the right thing."

They returned to the citadel shortly after nightfall, to find a lively feast already underway. Legolas gestured them over to there he and Gimli were sitting with a mixture of their kin. Niphredil supped and drank until she was near to bursting while Thranduil spoke to his son. Legolas was keen to set up a trade agreement between the Dwarves and the Elves of Greenwood. Thranduil listened intently, eyeing Gimli's father Glóin tensely. If any agreement was to be made, they would have to make amends.

"There is no use dwelling in the past, Master Dwarf." Thranduil said to Glóin when Legolas was finished speaking. "If our sons can forge such a strong friendship in so little time, no doubt we too can be allies."

Glóin swallowed a mouthful of ale and supressed a belch. "Aye, Lord Elf." He agreed. "Though I was bitter about it for a long while, I have, in my old age and wisdom, come to see that there was error on both sides when first we met. There's no use letting old gripes fester. An alliance would do both our kindreds good."

They stood up and shook hands across the table. Gimli clapped Legolas hard on the back and cheered. The Elves and Dwarves smiled at the prospect of forgetting their ill will and raised their cups in salute to one another. Niphredil grinned as she drank the last sup of her wine to Gimli's good health. Thranduil picked up the decanter and poured her another cup, beaming from ear to ear.

The next day passed as a pleasant blur. King Aragorn and Lady Arwen were married at midday and it was bittersweet. Niphredil could hardly look at Lord Elrond's trembling smile as he surrendered his daughter to mortality, for tears brimmed at her eyes seeing the agony written in his face. She bit her lip as the couple sealed their vows with a kiss. _Don't cry…_

The feast was a great deal merrier than the ceremony, as Aragorn took yet another opportunity to salute the ringbearers, his companions, and Gandalf the White, illiciting a chorus of cheers all around. The food was marvellous; each table was piled high with platters of meats, vegetables, fruit, bread and cakes fit for the Valar, and the wine tasted like something from Manwe's private vineyard. Niphredil ate to her heart's content once more, goaded on by a wonderfully jolly Elvenking. Minstrels played in the recesses of the great hall, and when most had finished their sup, they picked up a livelier tune to encourage the guests to dance.

"Come with me." Thranduil said, pushing his chair out and standing up.

"Where?" Niphredil was loath to leave the vessel of Dorwinion red.

He extended his hand. "To dance."

She cringed, blushing at his boldness. He observed her hesitation and laughed. "Just one dance, I promise."

Begrudgingly, she accepted. The beat had slowed at this point, and Niphredil felt a fresh surge of colour rise to her cheeks as Thranduil looped one long arm around her waist and grasped her hand tightly in his own. She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and smiled coyly as he took the lead, pivoting her gracefully to the rhythm of the music.

He was smiling at her, she realised. The usual apathy of his face transformed when he looked at her, morphing into a becoming grin that made her head spin. He had to be the most handsome creature she had ever seen, with his finely-wrought features and shining blue eyes, all framed by lightly-golden hair. Yet nothing made her heart flutter more than the way he carried himself; the grace and fluidity of his movements seemed too perfect to be that of a living being, and the gentle firmness of his touch sent warm waves through her body no matter how many times she felt it. She realised she was staring up at him and averted her eyes quickly. Legolas was watching them he realised, as was Gimli, the Elven prince's broke into a handsome grin when she looked at him. Gimli winked and raised his tankard.

She felt faint all of a sudden. She looked back up at Thranduil, hoping to excuse herself without offending him. His face had inched very close to her while she was not looking, and Niphredil froze as her mind slowly realised what Legolas had been grinning about. _I think he's going to –_

Thranduil's lips pressed against her mouth before she could even finish her thought, knocking the very air out of her lungs. Her heart surged in ungrounded panic and then she did something no-one expected: she shoved him away and backhanded him across the face.

The entire room froze upon hearing the horrible crash her hand made as it clapped against his cheek. Thranduil staggered backward holding his face, visibly stunned. Niphredil's stomach lurched as a venomous mixture of shame, guilt and mortification overcame her. Without a word she turned and fled the room, not slowing until she stood safely in her room with the door locked behind her. _What have I done?_ She buried her face in her hands and sobbed heartily. _He kissed me and I hit him. In front of everyone. _"Oh, what possessed me!" She wailed. The walls made no response. Too ashamed to return to the feast, she stripped down to her slip and clambered into bed. As she blew out her candle, she prayed to Erú that this would all be a bad dream.


	5. Chapter 5

She could not bring herself to approach Thranduil the next day, nor the day after. They rode back across Middle Earth carrying a heavy silence between them. Legolas did not speak to her either out of loyalty to his father. Niphredil was left to wallow in her misery alone. When they returned to the halls of the Elvenking, she confined herself to her quarters for many days, not daring to venture outside for fear of the judging eyes of the other Elves. Thranduil did not invite her to dinner, but rich trays of splendid food were brought to her room daily, along with jugs of _miruvor_. She wondered if she would ever muster the courage to face him again, for she wanted desperately to make amends. Given the power, she would set the clock back to that moment and receive his kiss with grace.

From time to time she would touch a finger to her lips and try to recall the feel of his mouth as it pressed against hers. His lips had been soft, his fragrance intoxicating, the way his hand grasped her back, holding her fast in place with quivering fingers threatened to make her fold at the knees even as she recalled the sensation. _Why did I reject him so?_ She wondered forlornly. _I could not have dreamt of a better fate. _

Her dreams returned. She found herself wandering in sloping woods once more, entirely alone. They were more vivid now; she envisioned the rocky slopes ahead, mounted by snowy peaks and laden with dread. The vision faded and she found herself walking along hallways much like those of _Ringathrond_, but greater in all respects. She saw the faces of a stern Elf and a fair Elleth with hair like her own. They left her, first her father, clad in radiant armour, with a slender halberd tucked against his shoulder, then her mother in armour of her own, with a well-made bow and full quiver lashed to her back. _They left, but they never returned_. She remembered. Niphredil envisioned a throne room, loftier and finer by far than Thranduil's. Upon two tall carven seats sat the king and queen of the protected realm; he with silver hair flowing down his back, and a glimmering necklace caught around his neck, set with an otherworldly jewel whose rays shone throughout the chamber; she with long black waves about her face and shining eyes, her body aglow with potent magic and un-concealable power. Thingol and Melian tried to explain what had happened, but the young Elfling would hear none of it. _Where are my parents?_ She demanded. _What have you done with them?_ The king tried once again to console her, but she turned and fled from his sight. She wandered the forest awhile, angry and heart broken. When she came to its eaves she passed them with no notion of danger; she knew nothing of the world outside. She ventured far to the north, across the shadowy plains of Nan Dungortheb. By some great fortune, she passed through the region unassailed, coming at last to the vile slopes of the Ered Gorgoroth. There she found her own woodland abode, deep in the mist-laden forests skirting the sides of the mountains. For many years she avoided the webs of Ungoliant's spawn, until she crossed the path of a band of orcs patrolling the mountain passes. They seized her and bound her in cruel ropes, then carried her to Tol-in-Gaurhoth, whence she entered her thraldom under the Maiar Sauron.

All of this came to her in flashes, which upon waking she wrote down and gradually pieced together. Her mind buzzed with all that she had come to realise. She had lived in Doraith; she pictured her parents' house; a small cabin built in the woods next to the steep hill that contained the meandering caves of Menegroth. She recalled that her father had guarded the gates to the king's abode, and that her mother fashioned many things made of fine cloth for the members of the court. She remembered faces most of all, faces of the people she had known. She did not remember Thranduil, however, and fancied that he must have left for Middle Earth before she was born. She longed to tell him everything that she had recollected. So it was that she finally screwed her courage to its sticking-place and went to his chambers unannounced.

Thranduil's face lit up when he opened the door to her, but only for a second. He corrected himself and put on a stoic expression before he said or did something foolish – like kiss her. Niphredil fidgeted uncomfortably until he invited her in.

"Wine?" He offered flatly, lifting his own cup from the table and draining it.

"Please." She answered. He filled two cups and handed her one. She sipped it gingerly, eyes fixed on him. He would not – or could not – look at her. His eyes were riveted to his cup. He had taken off his crown, jacket and boots. His hair hung, damp and freshly-brushed, down by the sides of his face. Niphredil could not decide whether he looked more or less handsome without his kingly visage. _He is just as handsome now_. She concluded. _Just in a different way_.

She walked over to the table. Thranduil shied slightly when she stood next to him, but relaxed when he saw her spread a sheet of parchment out beside the wine jug.

"What is this?" He asked, turning to look at her scribbled notes.

"I remember." She stated simply.

He looked up at her for the first time. Niphredil's heart fluttered at the sight of his beautiful blue eyes. "You remembered all of this?"

"Yes." She replied. "The dreams have come every night since –"

"And you are sure it is all correct?" He saved her from finishing her sentence.

"Absolutely." She answered with a short nod.

"Doraith…" He muttered, pouring over the mess of blotches and scribbles. "Your parents must have fallen in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad."

"Yes, they did."

"Oh I see, that is what Thingol called upon you for." His lips moved as he read, brow furrowed in concentration. "Oh my… The Ered Gorgoroth?"

"Hmmm." She affirmed, struck dumb as he looked up at her once more.

"And then Tol-in-Gaurhoth." He tutted in pity. "No wonder you chose to forget."

She smirked. "No wonder indeed."

"Still, it is good that you finally regained your memory." He stood up straight and swallowed a generous mouthful of wine.

She shrugged. "I suppose. Wondering where I came from was a nuisance, but now that I recall everything, it does not seem worth all of the worry."

Thranduil eyed her questioningly.

"What I mean is." She went on. "In a way I am glad I was captured. Otherwise I might not have had the opportunity to live the life I have now. My past seems like such a waste of time in comparsion."

He was visibly shocked by this. Niphredil chuckled in spite of herself. "I know it is a strange thing to say." She admitted. "But that is how I feel."

Thranduil refilled his cup and topped hers up. Clutching his cup to his chest, he strode silently across the room, troubled by his own thoughts. Niphredil stepped after him.

"I am glad you rescued me." She said. "And I am so grateful for your hospitality. You really are the most wonderful person I have ever known."

He stopped dead in his tracks. Niphredil stood and spoke to his back, afraid to come closer. "And I am sorry for hurting you. What I did was disgraceful."

Thranduil turned, eyes wide and brimming. "No, My Lady. There is no apology needed. I was the one at fault. I should have broached the matter with more tact. In my arrogance I did not conceive of a scenario in which my feelings would be unwelcome."

Niphredil bit her lip and inspected the contents of her cup. She took one huge gulp for courage and returned the vessel to the table. She traversed the room in four quick strides and stood in front of him, almost toe-to-toe with the Elvenking. "But it was not unwelcome." She told him. "For the life of me I cannot understand why I did what I did. It was just so sudden. I did not even think you would love me back –"

"You love me?" And there it was again, that infantile little smirk that melted her heart. Instinctively, she reached up and pulled his face down towards hers, pressing a kiss to his soft lips. Not a tender, shy kiss like he had offered her, either. A good proper kiss that made him flush and flail his hands in confusion before finally figuring out where to put them. His arms braced against her back as he kissed her back, nearly toppling her over in his eagerness.

A knock on the door forced them to break for air. Still clutching her covetously, Thranduil rested his forehead against Niphredil's and groaned. "I promised Legolas I would accompany him on this evening's hunt."

Niphredil nuzzled him softly, savouring his musky scent as she traced his face with her fingertips. "Go." She said reluctantly. "You must keep your promise."

He released her slowly, with another chaste kiss. "Yes, I must." He sighed. "Will you come to the feast tomorrow night? In the forest."

"The Opening of Autumn, is it not?" She queried. Thranduil nodded. "I would not miss it."


	6. Chapter 6

**LEMON CHAPTER: BE WARNED!**

An elleth entered her room as she was breaking her fast the next morning. She brought yet another new dress with her, courtesy of the king. Niphredil wasted the day in her room, reading a thick anthology of tales from Beleriand she had obtained from the library. As dusk fell the Elves began to bustle about and she emerged. She went to Thranduil's quarters and rapped sharply on the door. He stepped out into the hall looking especially dashing in a grey silk jacket and deep green breeches. He wore his best pair of embroidered brown boots and his crown was piled high with flowers, leaves and unripe berries. He tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow with an impish smile and walked with her to the stables.

They were among the first to arrive in a large clearing sheltered by the tangled branches of enormous beeches. Thranduil's people had decked the lower branches of the trees with flowers and colourful lanterns. A group of young Elves was busying themselves with the bonfire in the centre of the clearing. Thranduil sat at the centre of one long table set perpendicular to two doubly long tables. Legolas sat upon his right and Niphredil on his left. They chatted as they waited for the guests to arrive, as Niphredil was eager to hear about Legolas's trip to Esgaroth with his good friend Gimli. Group by group the assembly filtered in until the space was very nearly full. When all of the Elves were seated Niphredil expected the food to come, but they had to wait a while yet. Before she could ask what the delay was, there came a tramping along the Forest Path and a score of hungry Dwarves appeared from the trees, led by none other than Gimli and his father, Glóin.

The Dwarves' presence made that night's merrymaking more than noteworthy. Niphredil marvelled at how quickly old gripes could be forgotten, given the chance. She had never met a Dwarf before Legolas introduced her to Gimli, and the more she saw of them, the more she liked them. They were gruffer and rougher than the Elves, but were undoubtedly a good, warm people at heart. When the feasting finally came to an end and the musicians took up their instruments around the roaring bonfire, the Dwarves were the first to leave their seats. They rounded the table, encouraging all present to get up and dance and sing. Some of them pulled instruments from their packs and joined the Elven minstrels. Niphredil laughed as Gimli uprooted Legolas and dragged him into the roiling crowd.

Thranduil stood up abruptly and touched Niphredil's shoulder. She raised herself and he led her around the table. Legolas suddenly appeared from out of the crowd, carrying a long silver sash wound with green and red ribbon. He held it out to them with a grin. Thranduil took it first and glanced anxiously down at her. Niphredil grasped the other end and smiled. He recommenced breathing, then, puffing his chest out, he led her through the gathered guests until they stood by the fire. He turned and kissed her lightly as the music adopted a lilting tempo. With the sash between them, they pivoted and reeled around each other, first at a distance, then more closely, then apart again, always dodging away from direct contact. As their nerves settled, matching smiles spread across their faces. Niphredil was vaguely aware of the others watching, of Legolas hugging Gimli in excitement, but only vaguely. This was the forging of _their_ union, nothing else mattered.

The music died. As the musicians picked up another tune, Thranduil grinned mischievously and whipped the sash from Niphredil's grasp. He darted behind her and covered her eyes with the heavy material before tying it behind her head. Niphredil giggled as he placed his hands on her waist and directed her through the ranks of his guests and out of the clearing. He guided her into the trees, not once speaking. She kept her silence as well. Butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach. She trusted him to lead her truly, and sure enough she did not trip even once, though they wound their way around many twisted roots. When he finally stopped he did not let her go immediately, but squeezed her waist gently. His hands were shaking, she realised. He undid her blindfold and cast it to the ground with a dismissive flourish of his hand.

"We are entirely alone." He whispered, sweeping his palms over her shoulders and down her arms. Niphredil shivered. "This place is even concealed from the Mariner."

She looked up. The midnight sky glittered with countless stars, yet she could not glimpse the light of Earendil among them. She hummed in amusement at the lengths he had taken to conceal them. "When did you find this place?"

"Not long after I first took you into my kingdom." He answered, undoing her clips and running his fingers through her long red tresses to release them. She leaned her head into his palm, enjoying his touch. He brushed her neck and collar with his fingers, making her flesh buzz with eagerness. His mouth was mercilessly close to her ear as he breathed. "I suppose I thought we might come to this."

She smiled and reached up, touching his cheek. He was warmer than usual, flushed with anticipation. She could feel his breath on her neck. _Damn him_. She turned her head to the side to look at his profile over her shoulder. He was hovering over her neck, lips barely an inch from her exposed skin. He caught her in the corner of his eye and smiled before pressing a kiss to her throat, followed by another, and another, trailing down her neck and shoulder as his emboldened hands slid around the front of her dress to trace the stitching of her bodice.

Niphredil's breathing quickened. She leaned back against him and allowed her head to fall against his shoulder, granting him free range of her body. He rumbled quietly when she boldly placed her hands flat against the front of his thigh, granting him teasing ghost-strokes. He grabbed her chin and turned her head with a jerk, covering her mouth with his in a flash. Niphredil's hand shot to the back of his head, and there entangling in his hair, held him greedily to her. She bit his lip somewhat by accident in her eagerness, eliciting a delicious growl from somewhere deep within him. He nibbled her back, tugging her lips delicately apart with his teeth before slipping his hot tongue between them. Niphredil moaned into his mouth and met his tongue with her own as one of his hands squeezed her breast mercilessly. She arched against him, pushing her bosom further into his groping hand. She felt him smile against her mouth. His other hand slipped away from her jaw and travelled hurriedly down her back. He tugged roughly at the bow in her laces, grunting as it stubbornly refused to come undone. He pulled again with more force and the laces fell apart.

He grabbed her hand out of his hair pulled her around until she faced him. His eyes glinted demonically as he crashed his mouth against hers once more. She clung onto his shoulders as strong hands snatched feverously at her laces, yanking her bodice apart in one swift tug. He pushed the dress down off her body, barely waiting for her to wriggle out of her sleeves. He held fast to her naked form with one hand as the other traversed her body, meandering down her bare back, rolling over her rump and reaching as far as it could down her thigh, encouraged by her half-restrained gasps. Niphredil, offended by his delay in disrobing, worked on the buttons of his jacket with increasing haste. She pushed the fine garment from his broad shoulders as though it were a filthy rag, allowing it to fall carelessly to the ground. She slid her hands adroitly under his silver tunic, raising it up and away from his tightly-muscled stomach and chest. He broke away briefly and hauled it off completely, allowing it to take his crown with it as he tossed it aside.

His arms encircled her one more, hugging her tightly to him as he rained a volley of kisses upon her mouth, neck, arms and breasts. The force of him bearing down on her so threatened to shove her to the ground, and she hung from his neck in a valiant attempt to remain standing. Thranduil bent his knees forward, pushing them between her quaking legs as he lowered himself to her chest. His ferocity abated awhile, as he caressed her aching breasts with his tongue and stroked them with his lips, languidly spoiling each in turn before finally capturing her nipples in his hot mouth, sucking each in their own time until they were red and aching. Niphredil felt her strength leaving her. Then, in one quick movement, Thranduil slithered a hand behind her knee and, taking her weight carefully in one arm, folded her to the ground.

He was on top of her in a flash, and Niphredil was enflamed by the feeling of his weight pressing her into the earth. She grabbed at him voraciously, amazed by the softness of his skin, the firmness of his frame; overwhelmed by the smell and taste and sound of him. His breathing was ragged as her own; a tumult of animalistic grunts and groans that harmonised exquisitely with her own whimpers and moans. Their patience was running thin. Niphredil clawed at his breeches, trying to find his belt. He laughed against her neck as he reached down to help her, unbuckling it with relative ease. Together they pushed the last of his garments out of the way, ignoring the forlorn clink of his boots as they tumblred away.

He pressed himself against her as his mouth sought hers once more. Niphredil wriggled in delight, now aware of his desperate need. They delayed their progress for the moment, preferring to indulge in each other a little longer before the plunge. Niphredil found her audacity strengthening the longer she was with her. She allowed her hands to roam over him with newfound courage, grabbing and scratching at what she liked – which turned out to be everything. She discovered that grabbing his rear encouraged him to reflexively squash against her even more, which she thoroughly enjoyed. Thranduil pressed his mouth to her collar, trying to stifle his frantic breathing as she rounded his hips with her hands. At last she drew one daring palm up the length of him, causing him to buck against her. She gasped in delight at this new sensation and granted him another stroke. He grunted and bit her. When she tried to do the same thing again he snatched her hands away, looping her arms forcefully around his neck. She giggled and kissed him. He captured her lips eagerly and recommenced his own exploration.

She jolted when finally one of his hands slipped slyly between her legs, brushing through her small tuft of hair and slipping quickly along the wetness between her folds. Thranduil swallowed her gasp and slid his other hand under her head, holding her mouth to his as he continued. He teased her languorously, drawing one long digit up and down her crease. He chuckled as she squirmed, seeking more direct contact. Almost by mistake, he skated fluidly through her delicate flesh and passed against her nub, bringing forth a startled moan. He massaged it a moment, closing in on ecstasy with slow, predatorial precision. Niphredil felt her hips begin to move of their own accord, swaying against his finger as pulses of pleasure passed through her. Presently he removed his finger, and Niphredil almost voiced her protest before it returned to her with a new target in mind. Brushing past her bud and brazenly through her lips, it entered her, granting her a previously unimagined kind of pleasure. Thranduil moved his finger with skill, spoiling her walls and striking her core with every pass. She broke their kiss, gasping for hair as warm waves flowed over her. She looked at Thranduil, biting her lip in an attempt to keep quiet. Thranduil looked back at her as he inserted another finger, spreading her and strengthening his assault on her composure. Niphredil shook as his digits pumped within her, managing not to cry out until he curled his fingers, crushing her core and sending over the edge. She cried into the night and rocked into his hand as a shockwave of bliss rolled over her, concluding in a buzzing warmth that left her whimpering pathetically.

Thranduil removed his hand and kissed her neck as she came back to her senses. She tucked her hands under his chin and pulled him up to her, stroking his jaw as she kissed him. Thranduil broke the kiss prematurely and gazed down at her expectantly. Niphredil felt a hard warmth pushing against her sex, awaiting her word. Thranduil licked his lips nervously, unsure of what to say. Niphredil grasped him once more, this time with purpose, and pulled him toward her. He touched her face sweetly, breath fluttering out of his parted lips as she guided him to her entrance. She met his eyes as she put her hands to her hips, pushing him eagerly into her. They moaned in unison as he breached her. Niphredil's breathing quickened as he sheathed his full length within her with a satisfied hiss.

He paused a moment, body atremble with contained passion, and caught his breath. Niphredil's loins rejoiced as he drew his hips back slowly and then drove himself completely into her with a rapid thrust. She met him the next time round, and they shared a wordless utterance at the heightened sensation. As he picked up a steady rhythm, Niphredil synchronised her movements to his. A glorious pressure built up within her, making her want to go faster, but Thranduil was more experienced, he held her in check, holding her eager hips down as he gradually built up speed. The sensation of him pinning her to the ground only excited her more. She clawed at his hips, trying to push him against her. He growled in frustration and pulled himself further away, refusing to grant her pleasure until she relaxed her grip. Niphredil obeyed grudgingly. He lunged into her again and she cried out as he hit her sweet spot. He grinned and repeated the motion. Niphredil felt herself soaring up, up towards her goal and moaned loudly, wrapping her long legs around his jerking hips. She looked at Thranduil the whole time, and savoured the sight of him biting his lip as his face flushed and contorted with pleasure. He nuzzled her frantically as her pleasure mounted, her tightening walls causing him to moan audibly. She arched her back as she felt her end drawing near. Thranduil kissed her face and lips as he lost his composure. Grabbing her leg and bracing it against him, he plunged rhythmically into her, pounding against her core and reducing her to jelly as all of her energy redirected to one place. _"Niphredil_." She heard him mutter as he too reached his peak. "_Meleth_."

His thrusts became erratic. Niphredil jolted against him, crying out his name, among other things as his wild ministrations sent her over the edge and she descended into a sea of pleasure. He let out a choked roar as he released his seed within her and collapsed on top of her, shaking and breathless. Niphredil held him lovingly in the aftermath of their passion, unwilling for him to separate himself.

He rolled off and pulled her to him. She rested her head on his heaving chest and wrapped a shaky arm around him. The sky was greying, she realised. Just as the forest was beginning to awaken, the two of them went to sleep in the grass.

~FIN~

* * *

_I can't decide whether to end it here or not... I feel like this story has potential for more, but I don't want to draw it out too much. I also don't have any more plot. Perhaps more will come to me in time._

_In any case, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :)_


	7. Epilogue

The babe gurgled as the last of Thranduil's quavering notes drifted away, fist bunched tightly around the soft cloth of his tunic. The Elvenking smiled down at his newborn daughter and made yet another wasted attempt to flatten one large tuft of her light-gold hair. "Tinúuial." He cooed. The baby made a grim face and kicked her legs, tugging with surprising strength upon his delicate shirt. "Shhhhh." He curled one long digit and traced his knuckle delicately along her nose. She sighed and relaxed, mouth almost curling into a smile.

The door creaked lightly. Niphredil sat up and arranged the pillows behind her back. She heard someone pause on the other side of the curtain.

"Legolas, here." Thranduil said softly.

The prince peered around the edge of the canopy. His eyes widened when they fell on his sister. He lowered himself slowly onto the bed next to his father, gazing down upon her in awe. Gimli shuffled awkwardly into sight and gasped.

"Well there's a treasure to behold." The Dwarf said.

"Here." Thranduil turned Tinúuial carefully. He nudged Legolas' arm with his elbow and gently slipped the infant into her brother's arms. The weight of the child in his arms instantly set the young Elf atremble.

"I-I'll drop her!" He stammered, sitting stock still.

"No you will not." Thranduil laughed.

"Don't be daft, Laddie!" Gimli chuckled. "Not with that grip!"

Legolas immediately relaxed his arms around the baby just in time; Tinúuial had been about to fuss. Thranduil, still beaming, put an arm around his son and kissed his temple. "Her name is Tinúuial."

"Tinúuial." Legolas repeated, smiling. "I suppose that will do."

Niphredil kicked him playfully from under the sheets. He grinned impishly at her. Tinúuial opened her mouth with a long string of delighted vowels and flapped her arms. Legolas' attention immediately snapped back to her. When her brother looked at her, the babe's mouth broke into a wide grin. Legolas promptly burst into tears.

Thranduil laughed aloud and squeezed his son. "I knew you would cry."

Legolas sniffed indignantly and lowered his head.

"Let him be!" Niphredil intervened. "You have been sobbing since she was born!"

Thranduil snapped his mouth shut and scowled at her.

There was a sharp scraping as the Dwarf pulled up a stool and sat in front of Legolas. He grumbled as he tried to peek at the baby, who was currently veiled by his friend's fair hair.

"Would you like to hold her Gimli?" Niphredil offered, nudging Thranduil.

"Yes!" Gimli exclaimed, then immediately a look of panic overcame him. "No! No! I couldn't. I'd be sure to drop her! Or pinch her! Or – I – erm – "

He searched for words as Thranduil helped Legolas place the baby on his lap. Legolas brought Gimli's arms around his new sister and held them there until the Dwarf clutched the infant to him properly. The princeling kissed his sister before reluctantly letting her go. He watched his friend intently, something akin to envy glinting behind his kind eyes. Gimli looked down at her tiny face in utter silence for what seemed like an age. Tinúuial's lavender eyes considered him thoughtfully in return.

"Well there's a sight." He thought aloud. "You know, little one, I once said that the Lady Galadriel was the fairest being in all the land, but I believe I'll have to take that back now."

"_Heh_." She yawned, still looking up at him.

"Hello, Sweetheart." He said to her. "My name is Gimli."

"_Uncle_ Gimli." Niphredil corrected.

Legolas and Gimli's heads immediately shot up.

"Yes." Thranduil agreed, squeezing her hand. "I think that will do."

The two companions exchanged astounded looks. Gimli's face broke into a smile as he looked back to his niece.

"Allow me to correct myself, Love." He said thickly. "I'm your Uncle Gimli."


End file.
